Green Bottles
by SnowBitch
Summary: The ever enigmatic Kol Mikaelson has returned for a century confined to a coffin. Hell bent on watching the world crumble at his feet. With a hunger he cannot satiate, the events that transpire are far worse than anyone could have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

The day dwindled under an impossible heat, one that scorched the earth and fried the walkways in a blistering swelter. The only relief I could find was what walls and ceilings provided which were shade and zephyr with the assistance of air conditioning.

The afternoon dragged and amusement was obtained by the delights of an array of female residents whom found themselves bizarrely compelled to accompany me to the house mastered by my brother. His appearance was lax of late what with the untimely diversion regarding his new fascination with the rabid Lycan he had pointedly not muzzled; a suggestion I took pleasure in making in her presence.

Half a dozen appealing dames were standing in a scantily clad manner, disheveled tresses ranging in length and color each framed their unblemished complexions. Some used bed linen as a means of concealment for their bare forms while others were brazen and stood in the garments I had shredded in urgency.

From my perch on the chaise lounges; I was in a prime position to assess each sensations splendid physique, casting an evaluating eye over their diverse assortment of figures. I had no type, no preference of choice whether buxom and voluptuous or slim and meager; a warm body was just that, a warm body. All inadequately clothed I toyed with an antediluvian blade.

"You see this, darlings." I lowered my gaze to the knife between my nimble digits, altering the position with a calming fluidity as I listened for the air to sing in a whip.

"Some say it is one of the oldest in this land, forged between the creation of the earth and the deluge as said in the book of Genesis." Talk of Genesis incited a contemptuous snort to depart in a flippant manner.

"Now, I've thumbed through the good book and there are many inconsistencies. See, I happen to like my fables yet this one is rather unimaginative. You would think the Almighty, all seeing and powerful had more flare for the dramatics or at least took pride in the sagas that reference him; intervening when things went awry such as the tale of Noah and his infamous Ark."

I ousted a cynical titter in a burst which followed the release of the primordial vane into the stomach of a statuesque woman with a strip of linen torn from my chamber bed shielding her modesty. She gasped and the sound of a sharp inhalation drifted across the stately drawing room and met my ear.

A slow bead of blood soaked into the white of the sheet and began to spread around the area that had been punctured by the knife-edge. The others whom stood shoulder to shoulder with the injured all had similar lacerations across the spectrum of their half-clad frames. I retrieved the implement from her abdomen with a jagged withdrawal and stood just inches from her crying face.

Muted sobs sprung from her throat and tears washed down her cheeks just like all the others. I stared upon her elegant and threadbare face to be met with a broken gaze, one that held no hope, no desire for reprisal only a glimmer of languor which quickly was replaced with terror and disgust when I guided the tainted edge to my lips and tasted the crimson that so freely flowed through her veins. I detected the faint whimper she stirred and reached for her cheek, laying my palm to it.

"Hush, little dove. You may still fly one day." I spoke in a menacing tone which mistakenly meant to sound palliative. The poor wounded bird, stripped of its ability to fly was a perfect comparison to the women whom had the unfortunate displeasure of my company. They could not fly, or flee in any case. Wounded and grounded at the hands of their marauder; predator to prey and slaughterer to lamb.

I claimed the darlings' lips in a heated exchange, rough in my treatment and method of affection. She flinched and squirmed as a means to break apart, failing miserably she succumbed to defeat. Where others had bit and held their own, this docile dove lost the will to fight which earned her a death most fitting for a helpless captive. No fun would be had with her anymore, the will to live had been abandoned and instead detachment set it.

I breathed on her brims a whisper that would release this captive from the earth and reignited the flicker behind her seraphic spheres for a singular moment before my sterling ivories tore into silken skin, her segregated lips ejected a breath against the shell of my ear and the ignited flicker diminished into dim darkness and her unresponsive frame hit the marble ground with a muted thud. I strolled along the row of women who remained, melodic musings departed in a whispered ditty.

"_Six green bottles sitting on the wall, six green bottles sitting on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be five green bottles sitting on the wall."_


	2. Chapter 2

"And then there were five." The echo that billowed up my throat poured out of my aperture during a moment of inspiration not five minutes before I returned to the bleeding and injured. They remained motionless in a line with a pool of their crimson splashing at their feet while tears washed down their cheeks. I detected each drop of blood as it joined the growing puddle in a dripping sound from the confines of the artillery chamber.

It was as if I had stumbled into heaven unexpectedly, the assortments of antique rifles and pistols ranging from a 19th century side hammer revolver to an 18th century silver mounted flintlock pistol and an 18th century Enfield P58 percussion musket adorned the walls with many other fine relics including an Iron age bearded axe wielded by King John II of France in the Battle of Poitiers in the 14th century to an 11th century Fauchard that resembled that of a sickle or a scythe. My attention was drawn to the array of mallets, some with rough jagged edges for the purposes of meat and others were old, rawhide mallets. I had slipped into the chamber to return the blade I had used for knife-throwing and was suddenly struck with an idea, one that would provide me with an afternoon of fun.

The art of Croquet requires patience; Pale-maille is a game wherein a round box ball is struck with a mallet through a high arch of iron, the first to successfully complete the course, wins. Unfortunately there was no iron for me to use but I had five lustrous maidens at my beck and call and the need was most definitely urgent.

I strolled in a pacing motion, appraising each mallet with enthralling intent before selecting a great deal of weaponry and a group of swords that would easily take the place of croquet stakes. Once I had taken hold of a copper mallet used for tenderizing meat - the jagged edge provided ease when delivering grunt inducing taps evenly – I collected one lone black ball from a small chest and practically sauntered out with my loot under my arms. As hard as I tried I couldn't mask the enthusiasm that was evident in the hurried sprint back to the drawing room and the broad motivated smirk that staked its claim on my features wasn't waning. I freed my ill-gotten gains and they hit the marble with a clang and a clatter before I addressed the frozen flightless with an debauched beam donning the edges of dirtied brims, still tainted with the dried remnants of the hopeless statue I had released with a fitting death.

Their eyes were filled with fear, glazed hues bore into my flesh with hatred behind inflamed orbs, their disgust and contempt for me only spurred me on. I would be the devil they prayed to god about, the dark one they flinched at. I would bring suffering upon them in my own special way. It had been a century since I had the opportunity to explore life; to express love and enjoyment the way I desired. If I were to remain in this lacklustre town then I would gorge on the humanity and taint the light that refused to dim. I would bask in the blood and dream of the screams that perforated my eardrums and ignited my hunger.

Picking up five blades perfect for knife-throwing, I secured them between the lips of the five who stood before me. The sharp edge sliced against the connecting edges of the mouth and as each tried to move, the blade carved and blood poured down and filled their mouths at a slow pace.

"Good girls. Now -" I rubbed my palms together in anticipation as my shoulders rocked side to side through an eager laugh. "- I thoroughly enjoyed our game of darts however the additional wounds would only bring about an end for the majority of you so I have surrendered to the endless possibilities before us and Croquet seemed a perfect fit. The elegance and patience required would cement each of yours survival for at least a little while longer."

I slithered along the line reaching out ungenerously to slide my palm across the taut stomach of a nerve-wracked blonde with mossy green orbs. She flinched and whimpered which regrettably jostled the blade between her brims and a pained outcry strained against her teeth.

"Uh-uh, I wouldn't do /that/ if I were you." I lifted my brows and locked eyes with her as the taunt slipped out. "Let us play before the sun disperses and the moon takes its place."

I collected the carefully chosen contents of the armoury and marched insistently toward the gardens, with my five following behind "The mere notion of Croquet in the dark is ludicrous. How would I see the wicket?"

Without iron arches or even plastic wickets I had to improvise with the assistance of five delectable dames. They were instructed to disrobe and take their places on the recently mowed grassland that stretched across the grounds. It took little time at all to arrange the course to specific memory; hammering the swords into the ground to outline the boundaries before directing each delight to where a wicket would be. I required another wicket or another woman; that realization resulted in a sharp snort as it dawned on me.

"I should have preserved the sixth for this precise reason. Hmm in that case, Blondie - " I address the Blonde who stood in the spot considered first wicket and she turned her head slowly to meet my keen gaze. "- you are going to have to double; try not to forget. I've heard rumours about how stupid blondes can be. Don't perpetuate the myth." I gestured with my hand to a stretch across the course. "Nod if you understand."

The silence was a gift but also a chore; although I didn't particularly care to hear the objections and begs for survival. The pleading had lasted for hours before I insisted on silence with administered compulsion.

As the sun downed and a zephyr rolled in, I inhaled in an attempt to soothe the boil that I could feel rise from the dark depths of my stomach; remaining idle sparked a need to act out and in the most heinous of ways. Villages pillaged, families slaughtered, battles were won and wars were lost all because I required something to occupy the dulling boredom.

I took to the starting point and lifted the mallet forward; the sight before me was a vision. My prey were standing in their naked forms, the sunlight glistened against their svelte array of figures and the splendid statuesque sensations were each more appealing with the flurry of marks, bruises and bleeding gashes that adorned and smothered their fine frames.

A moment passed and a smile decorated the lips that spoke a command. "Get down on your knees, peasants."

In unison their knees pushed into the dirt and brushed against the grass, segregated thighs were perfect for makeshift wickets or iron arches and the exhibition made my mouth water; a parade of pussy, who could ask for better afternoons? Their thighs were adorned in tender bites made by my mouth upon acquiring their company; the honeyed groans that tore from their glistening gobs were music to my ears and were produced when the blades had all jostled during the quick obedient movement.

My lips compressed and a smug moan of delight rang out followed by a quaking chuckle seconds before I began my game. Successful in my bid to clear the thighs of the Blonde I accumulated a bonus stroke; one to aid me through the thighs of a voluptuous brunette with a colourful tattoo of an eagle on her shoulder blade. I stood inches in front of her and detected the intake of breath as the mallet was swung and collided with her abdomen prompting her bosom to heave and the blade to slice once again. I couldn't contain the swell that went straight to my groin; the discomfort on display as well as tarnished forms incited a desire to build as I passed the shapely brunette with ink and swerved following the course to be met with a lissom beaut with luminous locks and a firm derrière. I took a short detour from my mallet and ball and advanced toward the high arched rear; standing behind a nameless girl I permitted my hands to roam her form freely, skimming across her bare chest in a fleeting fondle.

"It seems luck has found you today little dove. You've become the apple of my eye." The contempt that was so freely shown in return whenever I approached or touched one of the maidens had the opposite effect. I relished in their disgust and often enough my actions were purposeful in drawing the desired antiphon. Willing participants proved to be uninspired, power and dominance can only be displayed when the object of one's affections realizes that fleeing is not an option; to find oneself defenceless, stripped of hope and resilience because their prayers fall on deaf ears.

It is the most satisfying feeling when you have the power and their lives in your hands. Fate becomes irrelevant thus God and his power become obsolete. The course was nearing its end and as I tapped the ball with the flat edge of my mallet I watched with anticipation as it rolled across the six feet stretch between the slender sensation and the Blonde. Victory would be mine and as a grin took to my lips my eyes were overcome with rage while I watched in disbelief as the ball collided with the blondes' thigh and stalled until motionless. The silence was screaming and I could hear everything around me; the sudden intakes of breath, the increased heart beats that drummed and pulsated, I could smell the perspiration as beads rolled down this girls face.

Her knees were trembling and the blade chattered between her teeth, that sound quickly drowned out all the rest, it was like a relentless drill screeching against my ear. Before she could blink I stood before her, towering over her stature with an alarming expression accompanying the blackened rage that filled my optics. Dark sculpted brows narrowed and a frenzied return bore into her eyes which were overflowing with tears.

I crouched down on bended knee and leaned my lips to the shell of her ear as the tense unnerving tone to my voice laced my irritation in composure. "Do not fret, you couldn't help it. I don't blame you so much as I blame those thunder thighs."

In a moment overcome I pounded the mallet against them; the jagged imprint in flesh incited a painful scream to drag itself from the thick skinned girls' mouth.

"I mean, did you /really/ have to reach for the second serving? Would it have /killed/ you to go hungry just once?" I could feel it, the rage, it boiled deep inside and resumed its rise through my body; scouring my insides in an acidic cruelty that would see this girl pulverized. I lifted the handle to the mallet and the squelching sound it made when it reconnected with her flesh was revoltingly repulsive yet I yearned to hear it again.

"You ruined my game and for that you will be punished." I moved upright in an instant and yanked the blade from her mouth causing a slash to open on her brims which bled and coated my hand once I seized her jaw, running the pad of my thumb over her complexion I wasn't able to view her expression, hindered by the downing sun which shadowed the course.

"This is for your own good. You'll be unable to eat and the issue of your dense thighs won't be a problem." I smashed into her jaw with the mallet and the echo that sprang back elicited a grunt from my mouth.

The scent of fresh blood enticed me and prompted deep inhalations to occur while I retracted my arm and released another welt to her surface. Tenderizing her face, the skin and bone that provided structure began to cave. Her jaw dropped in an unhinged fashion, while teeth were spat over the grass along with strips of flesh and a crumbling mandible. Battering the skull until its shape was no longer and the skin had been minced.

I stepped away suddenly breathless, dripping in her blood before conveying a deranged yet optimistic visage. "Take note. Failure is not an option."

Fluctuating mood shifts were exhausting and as I stepped away from the motionless beauts that stared up at me with trepidation sweeping through their eyes as soon as a capricious whistle carried to their ears; a familiar tune with escorting lyrics.

"_Five green bottles sitting on the wall, five green bottles sitting on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be four green bottles sitting on the wall."_


	3. Chapter 4

The number of women had decreased from the half a dozen six to a more respectable four. I had ripped one from the earth, she had lost the will to live and the prospect of wasting valuable time and resources on her became futile. The fifth suffered at my hands; she felt my wrath with a pulverizing mallet to the face until her skull caved in and her brain was minced. Many could venture a guess to my reasoning's behind the abuse I inflict, the acts of torture and the unique methods to solving ennui, but the answers often blend together in an incoherent mess. I could say I'm a sick individual with a penchant for pain or I could express my enjoyment of heinous acts but neither would solve the riddle that is me.

I pondered this for a while as I stood mutely on the vast acre that surrounds the house mastered by my brother; the sight before me was a vision. A truly fucked up vision, with limbs in the air and awkward body positions and poses. Attire had become a pain and for the remainder of these women's stay they were to roam at my leisure, as naked as they day they were born. The game of Croquet ended in unfortunate circumstances but it had ignited my intrigue for sport and I had spent hours scouring the entire house for a set of billiards, a chess board and even a pool cue or two and instead I stumbled across a set of golf clubs. I was a dab hand at golf; I had impeccable range, granted my heightened abilities more than likely gave me an advantage others lacked.

Amusement was achieved by the pleasures of a collection of girlish dwellers, all under my control. Their every choice, every decision, movement and thought were at my disposal. Their bodies were brutalized, pawed at and distressed. Every inch of their naked form had been marked with incisions, scratches, bite-marks and discolorations; they had been demoralized and chastised, each falling at the final hurdle of their hopeful spirit. I pounded them into ground with every method of my madness, ravaging their bodies, tainting their cognizance, battering their souls until they begged for the ultimate release, one in the form of death.

The remaining four were all varied in appearances; one with raven tresses had the honor of standing on the course I had mapped out in my mind, the blonde with curls was sat a few yards away with her legs spread apart as wide as possible while the inked brunette had the honor of adorning the course in a crabbed position, the final dame who would round off my course was a statuesque brunette with a masking fringe, holding a handstand. I breezed across the space and inspected each 'hole'. I slid my fingers along the broad shoulders of the Raven and pried her mouth apart with a malevolent grin.

"Nice... hole." She was to stay as still as possible while I attempted to get a ball into that mouth.

The blonde was in a perfect position. Her back was straight and her legs spread apart. I slid my palm over her head and bent forth to claim her lips in a heated kiss. "Now, this is going to be my favorite hot spot."

I slid my hand between her thighs and teasingly pressing my penetrating fingers to her slippery entrance, she wasn't as tight as the rest of them. Hopefully her slick folds would envelop the golf ball and count as a hole in one. I removed my skilled digits in an agonizingly unhurried fashion and guided them to my lips to taste her arousal before moving to the crabbed coquette; her honeyed glory was on full display and the arched back sent her chest forward, her mounds were peaked at the nipples. They looked so sensitive and yearned to be touched. I couldn't resist and brushed my hand over her ample chest sending involuntary spasms soaring through her. She buckled lightly under the pressure which displeased me. I grasped the 9 Iron firmly and ran the curved end across her body, running the tip along her parted thighs as my lips were wet with the assistance of my tongue. The echo of sobs rushed to my ears and coaxed a less than overjoyed remark to spit back.

"Shut your mouth. I'd /hate/ to have to gag you with this." As I spoke I slapped the club head against the apex of her thigh which incited a louder sob to break free before silencing seconds later. She knew I meant business. They all did. They had watched as I beat the life from the bottle blonde who had sullied my game. The final girl had lurched into a handstand the instant I commanded it and she was holding strong. Her palms pushed into the dirt and moss below us and her legs shot straight into the air. I had an issue with this particular position and approached with a trudging step.

"No, no, no. Part those pins, darling. I want to watch my ball soar through these like a football post." My hand possessively touched her calf and slid lower to assist.

I could hardly take my eyes off the sugar-coated opening that I was faced with. My mouth filled with a pool of saliva as I inhaled the aroma of encouragement. I could feel her shell quake against mine as I pushed my head between her legs and lapped my tongue vigorously; sliding the muscle between her folds as my teeth latched to her clitoris and elicited a ravenous groan from my own mouth while she cried out.

The pain should have become desensitized. I had aggressively put these women through their paces with the bedroom gymnastics. Glimmers of delectation swept through my shell; sending jolts of desire and indiscreet want to my groin.

The game had yet to begin and I was already too preoccupied with the cavalcade of pussy ripe for the picking. To bury myself in their cunts for the remainder of my day would provide me with pure joy, but I had designs on this game and the wait would only incite a more frenzied response when we finally adjourn to the bedroom. I rapped the club head against my shoulder as I sauntered back to the starting point with a flaunting display encroaching on my features. I truly was behaving like a child in a candy store; if the candy on sale included hot sweltering caverns and perky rises.

With a bucket of balls at my feet, I conveyed a grin that diminished moments later and a serious expression took its place. Under a narrowed gaze into the distance I straightened my stance and slid my palm along the shaft of the 9 Iron in an attempt to convey authenticity.

Peeling back my arm, I let loose and watched as the ball soared through the air and rammed at the ravens' cheek. My second shot slapped at her flesh and the third soared and welted her abdomen. I could hear the faintest of sobs as the fifth and sixth attempts resulted in chipped teeth. I was getting closer to her mouth. I had no qualms about breaking each ivory from the cavern if it aided me in this but as I withdrew my swing, the ball soared and soared and successfully slid between her brims.

"Don't choke on my ball." The amusement wasn't lost on me, puns and witticisms were enjoyable. I advanced through the course and my attempts at the golden glimmering blonde whose pussy was as wide as the eye could see. Ball after ball after ball were hit and they missed. They were either too far off or a few inches in the wrong direction. I grunted contemptuously and continued. I refused to skip a hole; the object of the game would be in ruins.

Each time I failed to succeed, I detected the faded cries and grew increasingly more agitated, I began to aim for her face. To at least shut her up. As luck will have it, the altered aim actually garnered me with a successful bid for the hole between her thighs and the win quickly halted the waterworks. The crabbed coquette was harmless; one soaring ball was all that was required. It rolled beneath her arched position and I approached to proceed with my game. Her legs were spread and I couldn't contain the grin that flitted to my pucker. Thank the heavens I had requested the sensations be stripped of masking attire. A trail of bites trickled along her inner thighs and a pang of need hit at my crotch, stirring a swell to spring in to action.

I needed this game to conclude in a speedy end. I lined up my shot, planting my feet apart before hunching forward. The horizon was stretched and downing, the expanse of the sky held a pinkish mist with hints of yellow and orange at the cusp. In a move that allowed my fingers to graze the smooth steel I had enough grip to retract my arm, club in hand, and collide with the ball. The aim was to fly the ball through the erect legs of the brunette, her tresses brushed against the grass and the prolonged stance was applying unbearable strain to her extremities. I could see from where I stood the flicker of a spasm begin to tremble at her elbows. They weren't going to hold out for much longer and I think the maiden knew that as tears sprang from her eyes, flooding her cheeks while her lips quivered.

The sound of slapping flesh carried to my ears as not one but three balls welted her thigh, breast and arm. I wanted to hear the whipping of air, the zephyr would sing but instead each time I missed and her resolve was waning along with her strength. She could no longer support herself and the unfortunate happened. A reverberating snap rushed to my ears followed by the excruciating scream of an injured little bird, whose wing had been broken. I couldn't distinguish the tears of pain to the tears of what's to come. The grin that had staked its claim across my features dissolved, unfurling brims flashed active ivories.

"We have ourselves a little /problem/." My tone was malicious but maintained an affectionate edge as I approached the wingless dove. Her muddy pools were seeping with anguished cries while her hands instinctively clutched her arm. I was livid and before I could hold myself back, I struck her face with the arched curve of the driver.

"You are a failure." She screamed as I had knocked her back, the ground and dirt beneath us dragged against her fingernails as she clawed in a slow escape. I had the eyes of the others watching, they would learn that I don't take kindly to those who fail. I dropped to my knees, dragging her onto her back. Her breathless pants ceased once brown hues met mine. I took purchase of the 9 Iron one again and angled it in front of her mouth.

"Stop your sniveling and part those wretched lips." My order was obeyed and I heard the catch in her throat as I forced the curved end in past her brims, her gag reflex was intact.

"This is what you deserve." With a forceful jolt, my palm pushed flat against the handle of the shaft and dislocated her mandible. The squelching sound of muscle and bone shattering was like a harmonic symphony and the first break left her silenced.

I stood upright, peering down at the incapacitated brunette before directing a scornful glare to the remaining three. "Do better, much better."

The sole of my boot collided with the golf club that protruded from her mouth and as I drove it deeper, luring reverberating breaks to the surface. Her skull was cracked and the reactions I received were that of terror, trembling whimpers and nauseous groans.

"I strive for perfection, anything sub par and you won't last the night."

I placed my foot against the latest casualty of my madness and pushed as I withdrew the 9 Iron. The instrument was covered in her crimson and a trail of drops hit the grass during my strides. A light hum billowed joining lyrics that were laced in a sinister edge.

_"Four green bottles sitting on the wall, four green bottles sitting on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be three green bottles sitting on the wall."_


	4. Chapter 3

In a small town like Mystic Falls pleasures had to be obtained with somewhat unconventional methods. Compulsion aided in the procurement of female company; they /never/ had anything worth hearing but what they lacked in intellect and cunning, they made up for in splendor.

The naked body of a damsel was utterly stunning and on days that dwindled and nights that stretched into a mist of darkness. Who could fault me if the ends justify the means? The lucky three were strewn and stretched across my bed; intertwined in the sheets in a slumber.

My eyes flicker open to catch sight of a foot just below a pillow with a flurry of disheveled blonde curls rested against it. I grinned and turned on my side to inspect whatever sight I would find and I wasn't displeased. Lithe limbs were catapulted across my awakened form and a cheek was pressed against my bare chest. A count was required; I lifted the covers and totted up the motionless arms and legs that were uncovered. No garments concealed their figures and fresh bloodied bites were visibly as well as naked breasts and taut abdomens marked by slashes and swollen purplish welts.

Bright rays of sunlight poured into the room through the thin breaks of half drawn drapes. The heat was still unbearable; sweltering to a point that incited a frustrated grunt to slip past my lips and provoke a heated exchange of slurs to seek freedom. I flung the covers off in a fit of irritation and the sheets were splattered in blood; mine? The three's? Who could tell?

The few appealing dames who were fortunate to remain in their garments had been relinquished of them during night. It was hardly right to shield their figures in tattered garbs and deprive me of a thrilling image. Once free of the constricting cloth and silken lace that protected their modesty, they were now one with themselves and their bodies, bodies that I had the pleasure of exploring, tasting and roaming with no protestation.

I lurched from the bed in a swift dart, stepping into my pants, bizarrely they had found themselves atop of my Armoire along with a pile shredded garbs and torn brassieres' that were discarded in a hurried fashion. I traipsed downstairs for a glass of water and returned in an instant with a two pitchers and a tray of glassware. The morning wouldn't be wasted and the sight was inspired.

I advanced toward the foot of the bed and stepped up onto an embroidered Vallejo wooden bench, pressing my knees into the upholstery I peered down at a ravishing goddess with full lips and raven-like tresses. Her breathing was shallow just like the others. I shifted an inch and poised the glass above her head at an angle until a stream of water washed over her mouth and nose. The involuntary spasm that occurred resulted in the swallow which followed a sputtering gargle before her spheres shot open in shock and met mine and the demented smirk across my lips.

"Move a muscle and I will drown you. Blink if you understand." Thick lashes fluttered rapidly as I increased the flow of water and the continued gargle sang out; her eyes remained locked on mine and fear swept through them like a rolling cloud. No understanding of what or why this was happening to her. She had just stepped out of her house to enjoy the day with a brisk walk when things went terribly wrong.

"Fortune chooses the brave." I uttered portentously while I reached down to cup her chin to prize her mouth apart; I could sense a closing would be imminent and I couldn't allow that to happen. The shared gaze held and with each purposeful widening the fire behind her eyes dimmed; she was succumbing to a quick death but I had lost one to that and wouldn't make the same mistake again. I jerked my hands back and halted the stream of water and just watched as her throat constricted and her body began to convulse during her attempts to swallow to allow for breathing to resume.

I slid across and shook the leg of a stirring dame; the one with the image of an eagle etched on her shoulder blade. I dragged her with a forcible tug which wrenched her from sleep. Desperate pleading cries broke from the barrier of her throat and her hands collided as she begged the heavens and me.

"You poor wrecked damsel, God has no time for your petty little problems. He has wars and famine to end, diseases to abolish and hurricanes to whip up."

It took no time at all to position her head beside the beauty whose throat was constricted and the reflex to breathe resulted in more water inhaled. I grinned and ran my hands over the soaring seductress' naked form while she struggled and flinched overcome with disgust. I reveled in the fight almost as much as the submission once a captive loses all hope.

I knelt on the bench and unbuttoned my pants to slide them down and my length sprung into action; poised inches from her mouth. I commanded in a deadly tone. "Open wide, darling."

I wasn't obeyed at first and I had to forcibly pry her mouth apart once I had constricted her airway with my hand. Her lips segregated as the instinct to breathe kicked in. Never let it be said that I don't know when to take a win.

My member throbbed against her cheek, longing for the warmth of a succulent mouth to envelope it. I slid my hand along her chin and propelled forward easing myself past segregated brims; the instant her lips slid against my sides I could no longer contain the harsh groan that teetered on the tip of my tongue.

The struggling form of the silenced maiden prompted the third to stir and awaken from her slumber. I had to act quickly to halt an escape attempt and with the crook of my finger, she fixed her eyes on mine and I reignited the compulsion element that afflicted these women upon introductions.

"You there, come forth and join your friends. We're going to play a little game." The familiar sensation swallowed me whole as my pupils dilated and retracted before returning to normal.

The third sluggish seductress slid into position. I reached for the pitcher of water and began to replenish a depleted glass and repeated the drowning action as a wicked smirk took hold of my already malicious countenance. The façade that plagued me not hours previous had turned into a mist and been swept into the air, lost to the world and my claim.

"I want to test your limits, see how long each of you can survive with your airways constricted."

With two slivers of glassware in my clutches, I angled them above the raven-haired temptress and the newly roused fair-haired dame with loose curls and proceeded to wash over their fissures with a continuous stream of water. The only option left to them was to inhale and once they did they were overcome with icy liquid filling their panting mouths. My gaze fell on the silenced splendor that paraded a soaring eagle to the blade of her shoulder; I gave her a vacant, rapacious glance as I rolled my hips in a forward motion and renounced a spellbound groan of delight.

The building need reverberated in my display and advanced into a more vigorous and belligerent motion; the slick edges to her mouth were scorching as her tongue involuntarily lapped against my rigid shaft. I had barely noticed the silence that seeped from the docile doves, light choking gargles were faintly detected and I slowed the stream a tad, my head jerked in result of a spasm.

I released a shuddering groan overcome with a sudden swell of ecstasy. The three remaining sensations were holding up well, all struggling to breath under impossible circumstances but powering through. Pulsating vibrations ricocheted through my form; sparking a spasm to tremble as my teeth bit down in a moment of weakness and resulted in the abandoned control of glass. The contents washed over the raven-haired beauty's mouth and the additional liquid halted her ability to regurgitate.

Yielding to the climax that encroached on the moment, I was subjected to a perishing heat. My brims jolted apart and a barely audible muttering of pleasure broke free; filling the vixens' honeyed trap in my slick creamy molten before I withdrew. I placed the glassware on the tray beside me and bent forth to kiss each of their foreheads affectionately.

"Poor raven, she unfortunately lost. Well if you aren't going to commit, there really is no point in trying." A taunting chuckle bursts forth as I directed an apathetic glaze of eyes to the lifeless bird with the blackest of hair.

My attentions fell to the remaining two, the ones who had lasted and were victorious. The blonde and the inked; nameless of course, they would have been faceless too if only they could survive that process. I rolled back on the heels of my feet and poured myself a glass of water to soothe the ache in my throat and a light hum broke free, bouncing off the rim of the pitcher.

"_Three green bottles sitting on the wall, three green bottles sitting on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be two green bottles sitting on the wall."_


	5. Chapter 5

There was only two, two who endured my methods of madness. Their bodies were disfigured, maimed and marked, coated in thick raised welts masking savage bite and gashes. I hadn't contained my rage during times that desire encroached. I played hard and loose with their lives, pulling them to the brink of death before gifting them with a release. Their friends had died before their eyes in the most brutal of ways. I had to instil the harsh reality, that I, Kol Mikaelson, would not accept anything less than perfection. Punishments would ensue and they did through displays of violence and sadism. Perceptions had been skewered in regards to me and the depths that I will go to do what I desire.

The hours had ticked by and preparations were being made. My back slid comfortably into the upholstered arm chair in the corner of the room, my feet began to rise and collide against the rigid backs of a pile of motionless dead, and each lifeless corpse had suffered my wrath with savage bites, a pulverized face or death by drowning. The soles of my boots ran along the edge of the sheet that shielded the disfigured and inflicted, marking the white with a muddy smear.

My gaze flickered toward the marble floor and the beauties that adorned it. Curved thighs pushed against the icy cold floor while their fingers coiled around green bottles; breaking the heads until all that remains is a thick rigid end. Each inch of the floor was slowly masked in broken bases stretching toward me. A thousand green bottles had been placed stray shards of glass cut and sliced the palms of their handlers. I slid my own along the arms of my chair, gliding pads along the smooth fabric that hugged the lounger.

The echo that billowed up my throat poured out of my aperture during a moment of appreciation, hands collided in a clap to gain their attention. They were visibly shaken, each day another girl had failed to live and with only two left. Their chance of survival was slim.

"Ladies, you are going to fight for your freedom. The first to cross the bottle base floor will be allowed to leave." Their eyes widened and gravitated toward each other. I had hoped they were evaluating their opponent, the one who stood in their way to freedom but tears rolled down their cheeks meeting sobs of relief. My instructions were simple. The first to cross the stretch to stand by side would be released from this torture. They stood in front of the fireplace with a mix of reluctance and determination radiating through their form. Would the eagle soar or would the blonde be victorious?

"On your marks, ready, set, go."

It was a sight to beat all other sights. Breasts bounced with each jolt of movement. Tresses raked against flesh while screams surged, breaking the barriers of their throats. My lips compressed and a smug moan of delight rang out followed by a quaking chuckle seconds later. The soles of their feet crushed against the bases, shards of green tinted glass were embedded in their feet. The surfacing of crimson spread along the jagged spikes, pools of blood replenished the bottles and the scent assaulted my nose.

I was ravenous; dark hues hardened and were joined with thick black veins protruding beneath my eyes. They had barely crossed the first row and already knees trembled and knocked together as they pushed themselves to endure the agony. The blonde had buckled and been brought forward, her hands instinctively stretched outward to shield her face from the impending impalement. The spikes unfortunately became embedded in her palms, intruding through her rib cage and forearms. Blood rushed in a slow trickle.

Her screams erupted as the eagle cried. She cried for her fallen friend and advanced in a slow step. Patience was on her side. I couldn't mask my enjoyment or the grin that etched itself across my lips. I swerved in my seat, stretching to land my gaze on the troubled blonde. "Don't despair, little dove. You and I shall have ourselves some fun. The eagle is advancing. Clip her wings and be all conquering."

"No!" She bellowed defiantly, I thought that was what I detected in her voice but her moving frame had other ideas. Defeat had not found this sprite. Her hands pulled up and carafes were discarded while she moved into an upright position. Her feet were firmly on the base tops; no scream left her lips. Muted tears washed down her face with each contorting visage. I revelled in her resilience, the determination and will to live.

From my perch, I inhaled deeply and fixed an admiring eye on the two survivalists. They yearned to taste freedom, to feel the warmth embrace of their loved ones and escape from my clutches. I had kept them like caged animals; beaten and starved.

"This is quite a pictures, darlings. Let's put a little more bounce in your steps, let me see those breasts jiggle." I smirked through a lecherous moan, snaking my tongue along the curvature of my lip as blunted ivories plummeted into the tier. The voluptuous brunette with a vibrant tattoo of an eagle increased in her steps, there was a need and ferocity. Breathless gasps carried from both mouths and the competition had finally begun. The race was on.

I lurched from my seat and stood in surprise; the promise of release had spurred these maidens. They were desperate, willing to do anything to live. I pondered for a moment how willing they would be and was struck with mad inspiration. The final row was untouched, untainted in crimson and the foot that pressed into a bottle belonged to the eagle quickly followed by the blonde. They were neck and neck and I would have to wring a neck. Sobs of jubilation flooded the atmospheres as the eagle stepped to the marble and for the longest second she stood alone until the sprite made an appearance. With a second between the two, a decision was to be made.

"We have ourselves a victor." I placed my lips to the cheek of both women and their shivering withdrawal incited a contemptuous reveal to depart from my brims. "It's rather unfortunate that you both stand here. I cannot decide which will be released."

"Please, let us both go." The blonde screamed impatiently, she was at her wits end. The eagle stood tall and solemn, she understood that I wouldn't be persuaded and silenced her objections.

I slid my fingers into my pocket and returned with a blade beneath a coiled grasp, thrusting the edge into the brunette's hand while I whispered into her ear. "There is only one way you are released." One nod, one jolt of her head was required to signify her understanding. I stepped back to watch the unspeakable happen. The blonde who had stumbled and begged for release along with her opponent had procured a broken bottle from the floor. Instinct had kicked into overdrive and as the eagle approached wielding the blade to cement her survival. The blonde plunged the jagged base into the other's throat. I was shocked, astounded and impressed. In a twist of fate the ending had been changed. The eagle slumped to her knees and fell forward, impaling herself on the row of untouched bottles. I honestly didn't think the blonde had it in her.

My lips twisted into a derisive smirk as I pushed myself off the wall. "Congratulations. I did promise a release."

Cries of exhaustion poured into the air as the remaining girl stood grief stricken; I slowed my pace and claimed her lithe limb as my eyes fell to the motionless eagle, allowing the habitual voicing to disperse.

_"Two green bottles sitting on the wall, two green bottles sitting on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be one green bottles sitting on the wall."_


	6. Chapter 6

I lead the shapely blonde toward the door, soothing strokes ran down her back while my lips compressed into a smile. Scattered musings exited her mouth in a single question. "Why?"

There was no simple answer, none that would provide her with validity, none that would allow her to understand why it was her or why I do the things I do. We hovered by the door and I peered down to clasp her cheek.

"There is something you should learn. Trust and ease is earned, it is never given. You fight to survive in a world where niceties are habitual which dilutes everything around. Expect the worse and you'll never be disappointed." I pried the door open and sunlight poured in, spreading across her pale complexion and illuminating her golden hair, she breathed in and smiled complacently only to turn her head to meet mine again.

"You should have learned by now. I'm not one to be trusted." I slammed the door and flashed elongated ivories and inflamed hues as I buried my face into the crook of her tainted neck. Her scream was almost loud enough to shatter glass and the silence I was met with once her body fell beside the welcome mat was laced with eerie intent. I swanned up the winding staircase singing the final verse that would cultivate an end to proceedings.

_"One green bottle sitting on the wall, one green bottle sitting on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentally fall, there'll be no green bottles sitting on the wall."_


End file.
